


The avifauna incident

by Anarion



Series: The incident reports [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Epic Friendship, Humor, I Don't Even Know, M/M, crazyness, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 00:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/pseuds/Anarion
Summary: John crouched behind his armchair and watched the intruder stalk through the living room. He had a certain confident swagger to his step that John thought was not necessarily warranted.





	The avifauna incident

John crouched behind his armchair and watched the intruder stalk through the living room. He had a certain confident swagger to his step that John thought was not necessarily warranted. The again, he was the one bleeding and hiding, so maybe it was warranted after all. The wound on his left arm pulsed in unison with his heart and he felt the blood running down his skin. He would have very much liked to curse loudly but refrained from doing so as to not alert the attacker to his position since he seemed to momentarily have forgotten about John.

He focused on the phone in his right hand and dialed Lestrade.

“John. What's u...“

“Greg,” he whispered somewhat fiercely, “I need you to come over to Baker Street.”

“Now?”

“Yes. _Now_.”

“Are you all right?”

“Do I sound all right? There's a … there's someone in the flat.”

“Someone broke in? Where's Sherlock? Do you have your gun?”

“I can't just _shoot_ him.”

“Yeah, you're right. Might be difficult to explain. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Difficult to explain. John almost snorted. Lestrade had no idea.

He stayed behind the armchair but risked another glance. The unwanted guest seemed content to stand at the window and look outside so John carefully crouched back into the kitchen and texted his location to Lestrade. Then he grabbed the first aid kit and took care of his wound. He didn't even have to go into the bathroom because living with Sherlock Holmes called for a kit in every room of the flat.

Thankfully he did not have to wait long enough to seriously start questioning his life choices before there were hurried footsteps on the stairs. Seconds later Lestrade yanked open the door to the living room and shouted “Scotland Yard!” Then he caught sight of the intruder, stared, said “Hell, no” and walked back out, firmly closing the door behind him. John opened the kitchen door and joined a baffled-looking Greg on the landing.

“Welcome to 221B Baker Street.” 

He grinned. Lestrade did not look amused.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? This is not like that time Sherlock drugged me and I imagined I was followed by an ostrich for two days?”

“You hallucinated an ostrich?”

“ _That's_ what you take away from that?”

John merely shrugged. As if they both weren't used to crazy things. 

“Anyway, why did you call me? I'm pretty sure that this is Sherlock's mess. Shouldn't he be the one to clean it up?”

“And when has Sherlock ever cleaned up his own messes?”

“Fair point. How did that even happen?”

“I have no idea. I came home from work, opened the bathroom door, and there he was. I think he was a little pissed off at having been locked into the bathroom, because as soon as he was free and I was out of his way he calmed down. He's just been staring out the window the last 15 minutes.”

“And now what?”

“Isn't there someone we can call?”

“Excuse me? Who do you call in a situation like this?”

“I don't know. I am not normally in situations like this. The police?”

“I _am_ the police, I can't call the police... I mean I could, but what would that look like? Plus, I’m pretty sure that by now they hang up as soon as your address comes up. Also, you are constantly in situations like this.”

John sighed. That much was true.

“We need a plan.”

 

Thankfully John's phone rang when they were in the middle of forming an elaborated plan that involved a lamp, a coat, a pair of handcuffs and - for some reason neither would be able to explain later - Mrs Hudson's teapot.

“John? Don't go into the bathroom.”

“Too late. What the bloody hell, Sherlock?”

“Experiment. Don't worry, Phil is coming at nine to get his flamingo back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was cleaning up my documents and stumbled over this. I only vaguely remember writing it. ;)
> 
> It's not a 221b - shocking, I know! - but it ends with a b-word, because by now I am unable to end with anything else... :D


End file.
